


And Finally, A Lightbulb (Tony's POV)

by Vibrant_daphne (Dogtagsandsmut)



Series: Lightbulb [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: DADT Repeal, Kid Fic, M/M, Marriage, Military
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 18:31:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dogtagsandsmut/pseuds/Vibrant_daphne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs comes home to from deployment, and if his men wonder every year why the only one to greet their NCOIC at the airport is his employee, well, they dare not mention it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Finally, A Lightbulb (Tony's POV)

  
  
  
  
  
  
The first time that Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was called out from active reserves to Iraq as an instructor, Tony pitched his first temper tantrum in years.  
  
 _This is crazy, Leroy! You can't possibly be thinking about actually doing this._  
  
Lt. General Maddon is a friend, Tony, and he--  
  
No! You told me you'd transfer to inactive reserves once Tommy was born, you said--  
  
I know, Tony. But with Gunnery Sergeant Trevors out of action he doesn't have anyone else that he trusts to train his troops.   
  
You have a son!  
  
We _have a son. We, Tony. We made this decision together, and saw through it every step of the--_  
  
Don't lecture me on semantics. I'm not the one who's leaving!  
  
In the end, it hadn't mattered. His husband had made the decision for them, with a curt "It's only six months." Then he'd tapped Tony under the chin, and thundered upstairs to resume packing.  
  
Fast forward six months, and Tony was sitting, head on the steering wheel of his car, repeating his mantra for what seemed to be the billionth time as he sat in short-term parking at Dullus.  _Strong. Silent. Professional. Strong. Silent. Professional._  
  
He wasn't concerned that his munchkin would give up the jig; at a little over a year old Tommy was an intuitive, quiet soul, just like his father. Sensing daddy's stress, the baby reached out from his back-row car seat to touch his daddy. His little hand brushed over the back of Tony's head, and the Agent gasped, trying hard to maintain his facade.  
  
At the airport gates, Tony waited silently as the enlisted funneled through the service tunnel. Many went straight to their families but some, he noticed, stopped short, searching. Then Tony's brain shorted out ignoring everything else, as his husband,  _his husband, and oh God if it didn't send blood racing straight to his dick to see Leroy dressed in his uniform, Jesus, Tony get a hold of yourself!_  strode through the gates. And Gibbs stopped in front of him, all steel and hard lines, and nodded. Tony couldn't help the little smile that crossed his face, and nodded back.  
  
"Boss."  
  
"Dinozzo."  
  
And nothing more was said. The three turned and silently exited the airport, kid and suitcase in tow. That night, Tony fucked his husband hard, somewhat more noisily then they should have with a year-old in the house, and hoped and prayed it'd be enough that Leroy wouldn't leave again.  
  
  
  
  
The second time that Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was called out from active reserves to Iraq as an instructor, Tony seriously considered kissing him full on at the airport when he came to pick him up, and outing them both. He went back and forth with the decision during Leroy's nine month deployment. He still sent the care packaged and letters, filled with pictures of what Tommy was up to, and still called whenever he got the chance. His cell phone was always on, to compensate for the time difference, and he was glad to hear from his husband as often as he did, instructors getting a little more leeway than enlisted, but Tony couldn't deny the note of bitterness his voice held every time he was forced to pick up the phone with, "Hey boss, how's it kicking," or some other asinine cover line.   
  
As he drove to the airport for the second time he coached their son on how to act when his father came through the terminal gates. "Don't run to him Tommy. Stay with me. Be as quiet as possible. Don't," and at this, Tony's voice choked, "don't call him daddy. Or father. Or, um, God, just don't say anything okay? We're going to play the quiet game and if you win, we'll take you out to pancakes, okay?" From the back seat, Tony saw his boy nod, and his heart filled with so much love he thought it might burst cause him to drive off the road and kill them both, and wasn't that a sobering idea, and Tony thought, _Good,good, hold on to that feeling. Just for a while longer._  
  
At the airport gates, Tony waited silently as the enlisted funneled through the service tunnel. Once again, many of them stopped short, searching, then their eyes fell on Tony and they turned dismissive and almost disappointed, and Tony  _suddenly got it_  and it was enough to make his blood boil.  
  
Gibbs entered next, marching over to them, shoulders tensed. Tommy reached out to his father, desperate for contact after all these months, but Gibbs just grabbed his tiny hand and shook it briefly before letting go.  
  
"Boss."  
  
"Dinozzo."  
  
And nothing more was said. The three turned, and silently exited the airport, kid and suitcase in tow. On the car ride home, Tony seethed. "They think I'm your chauffer," he spat, "they keep looking for a redheaded wife," and Leroy nodded once and sighed.   
  
"I know, Tony. I know."  
  
  
  
  
The third time that Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was called out from active reserves to Iraq as an instructor, Tony had resolved himself to this life, and felt less like his soul was torn in half and more like he was numb all over. Tommy, now talking, pointed to his father's picture constantly. "Dad. Dad. Dad. Where is he?"  
  
"You know where he is, Tommy. He's overseas, training our soldiers."  
  
"Will he be gone forever?"  
  
"Of course not," Tony assured, though secretly he had his doubts.   
  
Three weeks away from Leroy's departure date home, a call came in. "Sir, it says here, you're Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs' next of kin?" And in that moment, terror rushed through Tony's body so forceful that he came crashing to his knees right there in the kitchen.  
  
"Yes. I'm his...he's my boss," he whispered, white as a ghost.  
  
"He's been injured sir, nothing major, and he wanted me to call you--"the voice faded out as Tony only paid half an ear, relief replacing all that terror that he had felt moments earlier. He remembered later being a little dismayed to find that the relief wasn't all because Gibbs was okay. Some of it was relief in himself--relief that he still held all those feelings for his husband. That he still loved his husband with every fiber of his being.  
  
On the way to the airport, Tony used a few tricks from his husband's driving toolbox, speeding and weaving in and out of traffic, desperate to see him. Tommy took his daddy's driving like a rollercoaster, or maybe race cars, and cheered and made wooooo'ing sounds the entire way there. As Tony tossed the keys to the airport valet, grabbing his son, he repeated to him the same cautionary advice he had over the last few months. Tommy interrupted him.  
  
"I know, daddy. Quiet game. We have to hide."  
  
"Yeah baby. We have to hide."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It's not allowed."  
  
At the airport gates, Tony waited silently as the enlisted funneled through the service tunnel. Some of the servicemen he recognized from before hustled the newer ones along,  _keep moving, keep moving, nothing to see here._  Tony wondered briefly if Leroy ever spoke of him or his son.   
  
He restrained himself from running to his husband when he finally caught a glimpse of him in the tunnel, uneven canter evidence of a limp. Tony hoped his eagerness wasn't too noticeable, but at the same time, didn't care if it was. In his arms, Tommy squirmed too. Gibbs limped over to Tony, taking his son from him, who promptly went limp in Leroy's arms. Tony and Leroy communicated to each other with their eyes for a bit, and then hurried away, not an audible word exchanged.   
  
At IHOP that night, as Tommy tucked into a short stack, Tony finally cracked.  
  
"You're not going back there. It's time to stop playing grunt, Leroy. You're 58--not that you're old--but you have responsibilities here. The team misses you. Our son misses you.  _I_  miss you, dammit, I..."  
  
Jethro did a cursorily glace around briefly before reaching across the table for Tony's hand. He smoothed the tightly-balled fist into lacing fingers with his, and gave a big sigh.  
  
"I know, Tony. I know.  
  
  
  
The fourth time that Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was called out from active reserves to Iraq as an instructor, Tony had hardened his resolve. He'd grown up with an absentee father and an emotionally distant mother, and swore he would not do that to his own son. He talked to Abby a few weeks before Leroy came home.  
  
"Oh Tony, you can't possibly mean that. You're so in love with him, and I know he's just as in love with you."  
  
"Then why does he always leave, Abby? We have a child together."  
  
"I know that Tony, I have the stretch marks to prove it. But, you know how Bossman is. Duty first. It's one of the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place."  
  
"Things have changed though, Abbs. He needs to be here for our son. You don't want Tommy growing up with just me!"  
  
"I know you'll raise him right, Tony. But if you divorce Gibbs, how is that any different than it is now?"  
  
"Because...I won't be condoning it. I won't give him permission anymore. He could have transferred to inactive reserves any time now. He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want his son."  
  
"Oh Tony. I don't believe that, and I can't think you really do too." She took him in a hug.  
  
A week before Leroy was due home, he called Tony.   
  
"I'm done babe. The paperwork will go through in a few weeks. I'm coming home. I'm coming home."  
  
"To stay?"  
  
"Yes Tony, to stay."  
  
At the airport, he didn't bother to tell Tommy to be quiet. Tony was done hiding. He couldn't muster the strength to contain his excitement at seeing his husband. He knew it showed all over his face. He wiggled like a happy puppy. Tommy held his hand, nearly hopping up and down in place.  
  
The service gates opened, and he could see Jethro nearly shoving enlisted men out of his way to get to him. A few feet away, he simply dropped his carry-on to the ground and ran the last few steps, scooping Tony up in a full-bodied hug. "Baby!" Jethro kissed him hard and long, frantically exploring Tony's mouth with his tongue, and Tony wondered how the man could  _still_  smell of sawdust after all this time. He threw his arms around his husband, hugging him with all his might, and only let go when he felt a few ribs shift. Leroy was still moving though, scooping Tommy up and throwing him in the air. The boy squealed delightedly: "Daddy!"   
  
Tony looked over Jethro's shoulder to see most of the service men, all in various states of open-mouthed gawking, the ones still walking bumping into the ones that had stopped. He felt a flash of righteous smugness.  _That's right, men. I'm the one your stoic, masculine Sergeant comes home to every year. And then I fuck him through the floor. Let that one sit and compute for a while._  
  
He dismissed them then, and turned back to his husband, who grinned a million-dollar smile at him. It made the Sergeant look two decades younger, and Tony fell back in love all over again. Leroy reached out for his hand, clasping tightly.  
  
"Welcome back, honey."  
  
"Thanks, love. It's good to be home."  
  
And with that, the three turned, and smiling, exited the airport.


End file.
